


Assumptions

by EllanaSan



Series: Tumblr Prompts [7]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you think she’s that bossy in every area of their relationship?” Portia asked, in a whisper, a spark of amusement in her eyes. <br/>Cinna shook his head. “I’m not sure there is another area to their relationship.”<br/>“Oh, trust me.” Portia smirked cheekily. “There is.” </p>
<p>Original Prompt : Possibly a story where Cinna and Portia have kinky ideas about what goes on secretly with Effie and Haymitch?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assumptions

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a bunch to Akachan who corrected this. I'm still taking prompt at Ellanainthetardis on tumblr if anyone is interrested. :)

“Come on, Haymitch.” Effie hissed, standing just in front of the couch, hands on her hips in a posture of obvious displeasure. Haymitch lazily looked up at her and took another mouthful of his bottle of wine despite the fact that he clearly had enough.

Cinna effortlessly jumped to his feet. “Do you need…”

“No. Thank you, Cinna.” Effie waved at him to sit back down and he did, under Portia’s amused gaze. “He can walk, he’s just being difficult on purpose.”

Cinna wasn’t totally convinced Haymitch _could_ walk. Granted, it was the first time Portia and he were working with District 12, but everybody knew the victor turned mentor had a problem with alcohol and from what they had seen so far, it was a nice euphemism for saying he was a hopeless drunk. It was too bad for Katniss and Peeta, he liked the kids and, to be fair, Haymitch had laid off the wine until after they went to bed, but… Cinna couldn’t see how they would pull it off with such a mentor. Effie, at least, seemed competent.

“Haymitch. Bed. _Now_.” Effie barked, at her wits end after her tugging of his arm had resulted in nothing more than her almost stumbling on the coffee table. “I swear to everything holy, I will hide all your liquor if you make a scene tonight when we have _guests_.” The escort and the mentor exchanged a long glare that obviously held more meaning for them than to Portia and him, because Haymitch rolled his eyes, sighed and let Effie help him to his feet. They awkwardly shuffled out of the living-room, Haymitch half-slumped on his escort, Effie’s sing-song voice piping that she would be only a minute.

Once they were out, he and Portia looked at each other and it was all they could do not to erupt in painful giggles that would have been highly unprofessional and not really mature.

“Do you think she’s that bossy in every area of their relationship?” Portia asked, in a whisper, a spark of amusement in her eyes.

Cinna shook his head. “I’m not sure there is another area to their relationship.”

“Oh, trust me.” Portia smirked cheekily. “There is.”

“They look like an old married couple.” Cinna conceded.

“An old married couple with a very bossy wife.” She rubbed her ankle, shooting him a slightly dark look. He had designed those high heeled shoes and had convinced her to try them on for him but they obviously weren’t comfortable enough for her liking. “Maybe he likes to be bossed around, if you catch my meaning.”

“I catch it, I reject it, I forget it. I don’t need that kind of images into my head, thank you.” Cinna laughed softly, trying hard not to think about what she was implying.

“But it’s true.” Portia insisted. “Dominant personalities often like to be challenged…”

“And how would you know that?” Cinna winked at her, watching the slow smile blossoming on her lips. Portia was a cheeky girl despite her sweet, almost angelic, public look.

“I don’t get what they see in each other, though.” she said, wrinkling her nose. “She’s nice enough but a bit… overzealous. And he’s not that bad-looking but did you see how much he drank tonight?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Cinna mused. “I can see the appeal.”

“Which one?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“Both of them.” He shrugged before smoothing the creeks of his perfectly tailored suit.

A spark of mirth was dancing in Portia’s eyes, now. He definitely knew that look. “Kill, fuck, marry.”

“You must have three person to play that game, Portia.” he reminded her, wondering what was taking Effie so long to come back. He purposely did _not_ think about what Portia had implied.

“You can add me to the mix.” She waved his argument away. “Effie, Haymitch and me. Kill, fuck, marry.”

He leaned forward a little, making sure Effie wasn’t about to reenter the living-room unexpectedly but there was absolutely no sign of life in the whole penthouse. He would conclude she had forgotten them if it didn’t seem such a non-Effie thing to do. He hadn’t known her long but it was enough to understand how important manners were to her.

“Kill Haymitch, fuck Effie, marry you.” he replied, without having to think about it twice. “Marry you because you’re obviously the best long-term partner I would ever have, fuck Effie because... well, she’s attractive and kill Haymitch because I’m sure once he learns what I did with Effie he would try to murder me. Your turn.”

“Flawless reasoning.” Portia agreed, nodding wisely. “Marry Effie, fuck Haymitch and kill you.”

“Interesting choice.” Cinna got up to refill their glasses of wine – since no one was there to offer them more, he figured he could take the liberty. “Why do I die in this scenario?”

“Because you fucked Effie, of course.” She took the glass he handed her.

Cinna watched her curiously, slowly sipping his wine. “Would it have been better if I had married her and fucked you?”

“Too late for regret.” Portia joked. “You married me and now I’m killing you. A lot of marriages end worse than that.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless and wandered to the living-room threshold. The corridor was dark, all the doors were closed. “What do you think happen to them?”

“I think my wife is cheating on me with my lover, right now.” Portia sighed, stretching her arms over her head. “And I think I’m dead tired and I want to go home.”

“We can’t leave without saying goodnight.” Cinna’s fingers drummed on the doorframe.

“We can try to find them?” she suggested before wincing a little. “Your shoes really _are_ killing me. The strap is too low to hold the ankle properly and the sole isn’t bendy enough, put Katniss in them and she won’t be able to take two steps.”

“Duly noted.” He glanced at his watch. Effie had been gone for more than fifteen minutes now. It was late and they had still a lot left to do for Katniss and Peeta’s interviews. He had a few ideas for Katniss’ dress… “Should we… go to Haymitch’s room?”

Portia’s eyebrow shot up. “Do we want to?”

“We don’t, but we don’t have a choice.” Cinna concluded before taking a brave step in the corridor. It was a step closer to his bed, which was all he desired for now. By the time he arrived in front of Haymitch closed door, Portia was behind him, coat on and purse in hand. He could hear people speaking inside so he knocked.

The door opened on a disheveled Effie, her wig was a little crooked, her cheek were red despite the white powder and Cinna didn’t need to look at Portia to know she was sporting a triumphant smile.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Effie, but we have to go.” he apologized swiftly.

Effie’s eyes widened in horror. “How long have I been gone? Oh, how rude of me… I’m so very sorry, Cinna, Portia… Haymitch was being difficult. He often is. He’s worse than a child sometimes, I have to be stern with him.”

“Don’t worry.” Portia’s smile was sweet, Cinna guessed that, to a stranger, it must have looked friendly. It _was_ genuinely friendly, that much was true, but it was also the smile she sported every time she was dying to laugh openly at something. “I hope Haymitch is alright.”

“Oh, yes, he is…” Effie sighed, looking tired. “He just didn’t want to lie down and then didn’t want to stay in his bed and… But I won’t bore you with that.”

“I’m sorry.” Portia said, and there wasn’t any trace of amusement on her face anymore. “You shouldn’t have to do that. It isn’t your job.”

Effie went from tired to defensive in a heartbeat. “Oh, I don’t mind… I’ve given you the wrong impression, I fear. Haymitch is a good man, you have to believe that. He is… troubled, sometimes, and liquor comforts him. It’s a shame but he _is_ a good man.”

She looked ready to rip their throats off if they tried to do as much as argue.

“Of course he is.” Cinna agreed. “Some victors… I’ve seen more _troubled_ victors than him. It’s understandable. Please, Effie, don’t worry on our account. We understand, don’t we, Portia?”

Portia nodded. “If you ever need help…”

“You’re both very kind.” Effie smiled. “But…”

“Princess!” came the shout from inside the bedroom. “Come back to bed!”

The door blocked Cinna’s view and it probably was for the best. Effie closed her eyes, mortified. “This isn’t what it looks like. He’s needy when he’s drunk, it’s…” She fell silent, clearly realizing she wasn’t helping her case.

Portia stepped forward, squeezing her shoulder. “Like Cinna said, don’t you worry on our account.”

“ _Trinket_!”

“You’re sure you don’t need any help?” Cinna insisted, because leaving a woman as frail as Effie with a drunk man built like Haymitch was tugging at his conscience. “Are you sure it’s safe if we leave?” He knew, deep down, that she had been doing that for years but… it didn’t seem right, somehow. He didn’t know Haymitch that well but in his experience drunk people tended to get a little aggressive. Even Portia, for all her joking earlier, seemed disinclined to leave her alone with him now.

“Safe?” Effie repeated, surprised. “Oh, you mean because of Haymitch? He would _never_ hurt _me_.”

She sounded insulted, as if Cinna should have known better than to ask something like that when, in all fairness, it was a perfectly logical question to ask.

“Sometimes you hurt people without meaning to…” Portia said, softly. “We just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all…”

There was a crash in the bedroom, followed by heavy stomps to the door.

“Sweetheart, why are you…” Haymitch stopped when he saw them, a hand on Effie’s hip, the other on the wall for support. His eyes were glassy but less than before, he looked a little more coherent. “I thought you had left.” His speech, however, was still slurred and louder than it ought to be.

“Quiet, Haymitch, you will wake the children.” Effie admonished him, before turning back to them. “I’m perfectly safe, thank you for your concern.”

Cinna opened his mouth – to argue some more or to apologize, he didn’t quite know yet – but Haymitch beat him to it. “Safe? Why wouldn’t you be safe? I won’t ever let anything bad happen to you, you know that...” The hand that rested on her hip moved until his arm was wrapped around her middle and her back was pressed against his chest. “I will protect you or die trying.”

He was obviously still drunk and not entirely aware of what he was saying but there was no doubt, in Cinna’s mind, that he was genuine. Effie didn’t look particularly surprised by the pledge which, he thought, most likely meant that Haymitch had already stated as much before that night; she looked slightly embarrassed that Portia and he had witnessed the scene but, mostly, she looked moved and a little pained. Probably because she believed he would _literally_ give his life to keep her safe.

She patted his arm tenderly. “I know. I trust you.”

Haymitch smiled at her then, a slow loving smile that told more to Cinna than every defense speeches Effie could have launched herself in. As he watched them looking at each other, he felt like an intruder. Portia must have felt the same way, because she cleared her throat awkwardly. “Well… We’re off, then. Have a goodnight.”

Effie offered to walk them back to the elevator but Cinna assured her that it wasn’t necessary. They didn’t speak until they were in the safe confined space of the elevator.

“They love each other.” Portia said, a little sadly. “I didn’t expect that.”

“I can’t say I saw that one coming either.” he replied.

She naturally wrapped an arm around his waist as they stepped out in the main hall and he, in turn, held her around the shoulders, bringing her closer.

“District and Capitol…” she pondered, regretfully, as they reached the security desk. “This isn’t going to end well for either of them, is it?”

He held his answer off until they had left the complex and were back in the Capitol streets, still busy despite the late hour.

“He’s a victor.” Cinna said, at last, once the Center building was nothing but a looming shadow behind them. “There’s no way he can keep her safe if they find out and decide to use her as a pressure point. He must know that.”

“She must know it too.” Portia sighed and leaned further into him. “That’s… That’s _awful_. I feel bad for making fun of them, now.”

“Do you want to take a cab?” he asked, feeling the need to change the subject.

“We’re only two blocks away, now.” Portia pointed out.

“Your feet don’t hurt too much?” He glanced down at the shoes. They still looked pretty to him, one of his best design, but if Portia said they weren’t good enough, they weren’t good enough. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I should make you carry me all the way back for those hours of torture.” she teased bumping her hip with his. “It’s only fair.”

“Is it, now?” He smiled at her.

“Yes. But I’m generous and I won’t impose on your back what you did to my poor feet.”

He shook his head before lowering his arm to hold her around the waist rather than her shoulders, he caught her under her knees with his other arm and lifted her up in a swift movement. People pointed at them in amusement.

“How strong and unafraid of ridicule you are.” Portia laughed before kissing his cheek. “What’s next? You vow to be my knight in shining armor?”

Cinna walked slowly, careful not to bump into anything or to drop her, thinking back to Haymitch’s oath. They lived in a time when that kind of promises, honestly meant or not, were empty. The Capitol was free in name only, he knew that. The only thing you could do to keep your loved ones safe was to keep them in the dark about your dissident thoughts. _That’s_ how you kept them safe.

“Sure, why not…” he said. “I vow to protect you, always, be it against monstrous shoes or… anything direr. I will keep you safe.”  


End file.
